Page 42 of Rune Assassin

She shook her head. “I don’t know. The rascal snuck up behind me early this morning before first light and hit me on the head.”

“Is the door always that tough to open?” I asked her as Tegan cut away her bindings.

She rubbed her sore wrists and shook her head. “The door is charmed. I can’t break it without help.”

Tegan finished his work and smiled up at me. “It just so happens that we have that help right here.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

My face drooped.“I-I don’t think I have enough control to be that help.”

“If you have a pinch of magic in you then that’ll be enough for me,” Clara insisted as Tegan helped her to her feet. She nodded at the fire. “Get flaming, dragon, and I’ll heat up a fresh spell.”

While Tegan worked his magic, I took up his position as inquisitor to our companion. “You wouldn’t happen to have a guess about whomighthave hit you, do you?”

Clara wrinkled her nose. It made her resemble a pug. “No, but when I catch that fiend I’ll give him a piece of his foot to eat.” I had no doubt she meant that literally.

The witch marched past me and over to an assortment of very used pots and pans. She picked out one of the blackest pots and moved over to the fire Tegan had crafted from his hands. “Step aside now, dragon, and we’ll see what can be done. It might not be easy with some of my herbs on the porch.”

“Maybe the window isn’t bewitched?” I suggested as I moved over to the glass.

“I can feel it all around us,” she countered as she stared disapprovingly at me before she shot Tegan a sharp look. “Are you sure she has a speck of magic in her?”

“Can’t you sense it?” Tegan wondered.

Clara lifted her nose at me and gave me a thorough look over. “I sense something about her, but it’s all a mess. There’s too much blood to make sense of it all.”

“That would be a blood contract,” I told her.

“Two,” Tegan corrected me. “We have Zahn to thank for a second one.”

My face drooped. “Must we?”

The witch’s ears perked up at the mention of that name. “Zahn? You know him?”

I blinked at her. “Doyouknow him?”

A look of complete and utter disgust passed over her face and she even added a sneer to the expression. “What possessed you fools to fall in with that fiend?”

Tegan stood and turned to us with a grin. “It’s more like he fell in with us, but that’s a story for another fireplace. Can you get us out of here?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she muttered as she carried the pot over to the fire.

Clara hung it on the spit and poured in a pitcher of water before she began her scavenger hunt around the hut. She plucked vials, bottles, and even boxes from the shelves, tables, chairs, and floor and dropped all the mess in front of the fire. The witch popped everything open and filled the air with an interesting smell. It was somewhere between a mix of vomit and two-week-old roadkill.

I clapped my hands over my mouth and nose as my bile rose in the back of my throat. Even Tegan skittered away from the witch and over to my side where we proceeded to unconsciously walk backward until our butts hit the far wall. I looked longingly at the window and door and seriously considered throwing myself at the glass to give that exit a try.

Clara tossed dozens of items into the pot and the water became more and more bracken. Huge bubbles formed on the surface and popped, creating a new scent for us to ‘enjoy.’ Just when I thought I’d lose consciousness from the odor, Clara clapped the last box shut and nodded at her concoction.

“Now for the final ingredient,” she announced as she half-turned to me. “Your blood.”

Some of my blood drained from my face. “Pardon?”

She frowned and beckoned to me. “Come come. Stop wasting time with that stupid look and get over here.”

Tegan set a hand on my shoulder and held something out to me. I turned and realized it was the handkerchief that had gagged Clara. I gladly tied the cloth around my face and ventured close to the gurgling concoction and the wicked witch.

Clara snatched a knife from the mantel and the sharp blade glinted in the light from the flames. She expertly spun the handle so the tip pointed downward and held out her finger. A quick flick and a tiny bead of blood popped up from the end of her digit. She held her finger over the mess and gave it a shake, loosening a single droplet that fell into the pot. The surface bubbled even more enthusiastically and steam rose in thick tendrils. The mist swirled around the top of the hearth before disappearing up the chimney.

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